


Cola Can

by pretty_ok



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Dark, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9784997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretty_ok/pseuds/pretty_ok
Summary: Judy finds herself in a tough situation and uses what she has on hand.





	

Judy hopped back and continued circling. Her fists throbbed with dull waves of pain, each thunderous beat of her heart making them feel hot and over-swollen with blood. Her arms were sore and aching at the joints, her chest heaved with each breath, and her feet complained each time she put her weight back on one. Somewhere across the room her tranq gun lay discarded, the darts either strewn on the ground or still stuck in the scales of the pangolin facing her.

Apparently, her fists and kicks were having little more impact, and though she was usually fast enough to avoid his strikes and claws, this was a war of attrition that she wasn’t going to win. She needed a weapon, and she needed it now. 

He charged at her again. She sidestepped, giving him a kick to the back that sent him stumbling. Her foot stung from the impact, like kicking a concrete wall. She only had a moment before he got back up and came at her again. Her eyes immediately went to the door on the wall she was facing, and what her eyes could barely see in the darkness that might be a refrigerator. 

_ Kitchen. Knife. Good. _

She dashed forwards as she heard him grunt and steady himself. The room, which was in fact a kitchen, was even darker than the main one they had been in. She could hardly make out anything on the counters as his footsteps approached. There was no time to search for a knife drawer.

He chuckled. “Come on out, little bunny. No point in making this any harder. I can see in the dark much better than you.” He chuckled again and spat, and she knew he was just outside the room.

Frantic, she caught a glint reflecting off a metallic surface.

_ Croca-cola. Fuck. _

She grabbed the can, meant for a larger mammal than her. She gave it a squeeze with her paw; the surface stayed taut.

_ Well, I’m out of options anyways. It’s this or nothing. _

She jumped onto the counter next to the door right as the pangolin stepped through. When he looked up, she was already swinging.

The can hit his head with hardly any sound. The pangolin yelped, his neck bowing under the blow. She swung again before he lifted his arms, then leapt at him, tackling him with her third strike. They crashed to the floor in the doorway, the pangolin trying desperately to defend himself as she attacked his unarmored face.

Judy raised her arm again, and paused. It burned from the exertion, but something else had stopped her. She looked up at the soda can as another drop of blood fell from the ridge at the bottom onto her face. Her ears twitched and she was suddenly aware of the low moans and whimpers coming from the mammal under her. Her eyes refocused as she took in the carnage: the bloody pulp of his face, the streaks of red staining his clothes and her uniform, the cuts in her flank where he had tried to claw her off before his resistance was abandoned.

The can fell from her paw, bouncing off her thigh and rolling away on the carpet. Her arms hung limp at her sides. She let out a breath, her spine slumping as she began to shake. Her breath came shuddered, her face felt tingly, and her eyes wanted to escape from their sockets. She was still just staring at him, trying to scream, cry, and throw up all at once but unable to move at all when Fangmeyer appeared in the doorway.

She vaguely heard him call her name, beginning to sweep the room. Then Nick showed up. She wasn’t sure when she’d known, whether she heard him running down the hallway, felt him as he hugged her, smelled him never leaving her side and spreading scents that yelled, “back the  _ fuck _ off!” all around her, or saw him when she came to in the hospital. The psychologist insisted Nick hadn’t been there, that he’d died the year before in the line of duty. But she saw Nick all the time. He’d been there for her that night, and he’d always be there for her. Her fox was her one small comfort when that pangolin’s smashed face came to haunt her. The only time she could forget was when she curled up in bed with him, burying her face in his chest fur and wrapping that tail around herself until, for a little while, she felt safe again.

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure what inspired this beyond joking about using a can of coke as a weapon. Hope it's not a sign of something :|
> 
> Anyways, gonna try to finish off In the Nick of Time soon, then move on to some more fun stuff.


End file.
